


Healing Property of Pemberly

by JoyBooth



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Domestic violence in the Wickham home, F/M, The only one who dies is Wickham, Traumatic birth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15827526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoyBooth/pseuds/JoyBooth
Summary: What happens after happily ever after.





	1. The Arrival

"Madam, your sister is here to see you." Alfred announced, while Elizabeth was exiting the nursery after a quick story with the children.

"Oh, wonderful! I was not expecting Jane to visit today! Please show her to the morning room."

"The visitor is not Mrs. Bingley, Madam."

Elizabeth's stomach sank ominously.

"Which of my sisters do I have the pleasure of a visit from?" She asked.

"Mrs. Wickham."

And there it was, the cause of her increasing sense of dread. What to do? What was she to do? She could not very well refuse her own sister entrance to her home but then, what of her husband? Luckily, this situation had never arisen before. In Elizabeth's opinion, this was because Lydia did not waste time and money traversing the country, when she could just as easily send a letter asking for money. All the while she was thinking, she had lost track of time - that is until Alfred cleared his throat, reminding her that she had guests in need of attending.

"Oh goodness me. Never mind seeing to her, Alfred; I will take care of my sister." She said with a strained smile. Then a thought crossed her mind, as he was turning to go. "Where is my husband?" She asked.

"He is out helping Mr. Taylor with his irrigation problems today and should be out until supper."

"Thank you." Elizabeth said with a forced smile, before making her way to the front door where she indeed found her youngest sister. "Lydia, how lovely to see you. I must have missed the letter you sent to tell me you were coming."

"Due to matters beyond my control, I did not have time to write." She almost sounded serious for the first time in her life. "Now, are we to be invited in or shall we be expelled from the place like ruffians?" She continued, starting to sound more life her usual self.

"That depends on who is in your party, as you well know, dear." Elizabeth asked.

"Really, Lizzy it is raining and the children are in a drafty, old, hired coach waiting to catch their death."

This is not going to end well, Elizabeth thought but there was nothing to be done for it. Her poor nieces and nephew could not be held accountable for their parentage. "Go and get the children, Lyddie,” she finally conceded.

“Mrs. Reynolds?" before she could even finish the elder woman's name, Mrs. Reynolds was at her side.

"Shall I prepare a room in the east wing for Mrs. Wickham and let Maria know that she will have a few extra charges? Perhaps Katie would be able to lend a hand."

"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. You are, as ever, a treasure. I am sure cook could spare her assistant for a few days. Hopefully, my sister's visit will be brief." As Mrs. Reynolds hurried off, Elizabeth smiled at her favorite member of the staff. A moment later, when Lydia bustled in with her children Elizabeth directed them to rarely used parlor for some tea.

"Do you have any wine and perhaps some food for the children? We missed breakfast in an effort to get on the road early this morning." Lydia asked, leading herself down the hall as if she knew where she were going, a line of children following in her wake.

Elizabeth rang the bell, ordering a light repast. The children had grown since she had last seen them several years ago at her parents’ house. Little George was now almost 10 and was already measuring at Elizabeth’s shoulder. He sat as close to his mother as possible, gently bouncing baby Amelia on his lap. Next to him sat Julia, almost eight and already a very beautiful child. She was fidgeting with a ragged doll, twisting the fabric of her dress between her fingers. Meanwhile Lucy was completely oblivious to everything, wandering the room unchecked.

“How long do you think you will stay?” Elizabeth asked when it was clear her sister would not be volunteering any information.

“Oh, Lizzy, you will never change,” Lydia chuckled to herself completely avoiding the question. Elizabeth rolled her shoulders and turned to the children.

“George, how are you getting on in your lessons?”

“Quite well, Aunt,” he replied.

“What is your doll’s name, Julia?” she continued, trying to make conversation with anyone at this point.

The young girl inched closer to her brother, elbowing him to produce the answer.

“The doll’s name is Cordelia,” he answered, clearly annoyed by his sister reluctance to answer for herself.

Elizabeth smiled at the name. It was one of her favorite characters. Luckily, she was spared from making further conversation by the arrival of the meal. By the time everyone had eaten their fill, Mrs. Reynolds had returned to say the rooms were ready.

“Lizzy, I think I will lie down for a bit,” Lydia said. “Be a lamb and make sure the children are settled, will you?”

“Of course,” Lizzy replied in her most patient hostess voice. “Mrs. Reynolds, could you see my sister to her room?” The older woman nodded. “Children, would you like to go and see your cousins?”

Julia nodded excitedly, while George merely stood shifting the baby to his hip and taking Lucy by the hand.

“I can carry Amelia for you,” Elizabeth offered, reaching for the child.

“NO!” He responded a little too harshly. Elizabeth was confused, but she thought it must be because he did not know her very well. Clearly, he was the protective big brother type, much like her husband.

As they made their way slowly up the stairs, Elizabeth continued to try to get to know her new houseguests.

“How is the weather in New Castle this time of year?”

“We were in London, Aunt.” George replied, clearly confused.

“London?” She was confused now. Clearly there was something she was missing and only time would give her the rest of the puzzle. “Were you visiting the Gardiner’s?”

“We have been living in London nearly a year now, Aunt Elizabeth.” Now George was looking at her as if she was in the cups.

“I do not believe your mother had informed me of that,” she returned calmly.

“Married women never have much time for writing,” Julia said, in a perfect imitation of her mother.

“Of course not, dear,” Elizabeth smiled. “And here is the nursery. Annie, come and greet your cousins.”

Anne Darcy was eight years old and a princess. She had everything a girl could want, except a sister. Upon laying eyes on Julia she rushed over and pulled her into the nursery.

“Come and see my dollhouse,” she insisted. The girls rushed away, Lucy following.

“George, this is Miss Maria Blackwell, the nursery maid. She can take Amelia so that you can either play with the others or find something to amuse yourself.”

“I thank you, Aunt, but Amelia does not like strangers. I am happy to care for her myself,” George answered, not taking his eyes off the other children.

“If you insist,” she accepted. “But if you change your mind, she is here to help or can get you anything you need.”

With nothing left to do, Elizabeth decided to go finish looking over the household correspondence she had been putting off.

 

 

Several hours later, she returned to find the nursery unnaturally quiet. She soon found George in a rocking chair with Amelia in one arm, Lucy in the other, a book balanced in his lap, reading to all the children. Even young Henry and James Darcy sat in rapt attention. She was mesmerized. Usually her boys were never still. She stood for several minutes listening to the story.

“Oh, Mother,” Annie called, when she spied Elizabeth in the doorway. “George has been telling us the most amazing story. There was a dragon, and a princess, and a brave knight, and an evil sorcerer…”

“That does sound wonderful, dear. Are you enjoying your cousins?”

“Yes! Julia knows so many songs. She is the most beautiful singer I have ever heard,” Anne proclaimed. “She promised to teach me all her songs, but then George said it was quiet time and we would have to practice later.”

“Well, George is right. I was just coming to make sure that Maria did not need any help tending the little ones, but it would appear that she has it all in hand.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Darcy. I haven’t had to lift a finger,” she insisted. “It was all young Mr. Wickham.”

“It was nothing Aunt. I was just about to put the babies down and help the girls wash up for supper.”

Elizabeth was amazed by her nephew. In appearances, he looked very much like his father, but in actions, he seemed to take after his Aunt Jane. With her help clearly not need, she kissed the children and went to tell her husband about their company.

 

 

 

“What have they broken now?” he asked as she entered his room excusing his valet.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she replied primly.

“The last time you looked at me like that, James had broken my snuff box,” he commented as he buttoned his dinner shirt.

“Nothing like that, William…”

He raised a brow at her.

“Lydia and the children are here!” She exclaimed with a level of excitement she clearly did not possess.

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“I have no idea. She just arrived and she has not told me much of anything,” she sighed, stepping closer to tie his cravat.

He thought it over for a moment, before shaking his head. “There is nothing to do about it now, my dear, but Georgiana and her husband return from the continent next week.”

“She will be gone by then. I will make sure of it,” she promised.

“Shall we go to supper?” he asked offering her his arm.

“Of course.”

Without another word, he tucked her hand into his arm and proceeded to the drawing room to wait for their new guest.


	2. A Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of Mr. Wickham comes to light.

Elizabeth was in a quandary. What little she knew about her sister, she had learned from young George.

They had been living in cramped quarters in London. One morning, his mother had woken him and asked him to dress and ready the girls. They had gotten into a hired couch, not stopping until they reached Pemberley.

Lydia had been at Pemberley for three days and had not once mentioned her husband or her travel plans. Elizabeth knew that she would have to have a talk with her sister, and today was as good a day as any. She sat on the bed and waited for Lydia to exit the dressing room.

“Lyddie, I need to know when to order the coach?”

“Why are you ordering a coach?” the younger woman asked showing no particular interest.

“I am ordering a coach to take you home. Georgiana will be here in a few days, and you cannot stay here forever.”

Lydia came out with her dress yet to be buttoned and turned. “Could you do me up?”

As Elizabeth started to work the buttons, she looked closely at her sister. They had spent many years helping each other into their clothes but many things had changed since then. Lydia had clearly lost weight. Elizabeth could easily make out each bone under her snow white skin, but then her attention was drawn to a rather nasty welt on her sister’s waist.

“What happened to you?” Elizabeth asked in horror, her fingers drifting to the edge of the wound.

“Lizzy, I have had four children. I am sure your body has changed also,” Lydia replied as if it was rude to ask.

“I mean this large bruise, love,” Lizzy whispered.

“Oh that? It was just a little misunderstanding.”

“Is this from George?” Lizzy asked already knowing the answer.

“Lizzy, let it go!” Lydia whined, pulling away and starting to work the buttons herself. She wincing as her arm brushed her ribcage.

“Lydia Juliette Bennett, I demand to know what is going on here!”

“Lower your voice,” Lydia returned in a voice that was deadly calm. “Order the carriage for whenever it is convenient. I am at your disposal.”

The turn of phrase bothered Lizzy more than she could say.

“Lyddie,” she implored “Why are you being so defensive? Will you not tell me what has brought you here?”

“I need to go and pack my things. Apparently I am to be thrown out into the hedgerows,” Lydia growled, stomping back toward the dressing room.

“Lyddie,” Elizabeth grabbed her arm and at this very moment that George ran into the room.

“Let go of my mother!” he screamed, pushing between the sisters.

Lizzy did so at once, causing Lydia to tumble backward a step, only her son’s firm grip keeping her on her feet.

“Everything is fine, son,” Lydia said in an innately mothering tone, ruffling his hair gently. “Go back to the nursery, your Aunt meant no harm.”

“No,” he insisted, eyeing Elizabeth as if she were a dangerous animal. As if all this was not enough of a mess, Darcy had heard George’s yelling and had come to figure out the cause of the commotion.

“Lizzy?” he questioned, but she looked just as confused.

“Mr. Darcy, take your wife down to your study. I will be there after I have a conversation with my son,” Lydia commanded. Not knowing what else to do he led Lizzy, still gaping, to his study.

 

“William, I … she cannot go home. I am sorry, but she cannot go home,” Lizzy finally whispered.

 

“I told you we could order her a coach. I accepted that she had come in the hopes of obtaining more money. We will do what we can for her,” he assured his wife, misunderstanding the vacant look in her eyes.

“It is not the money,” she wailed. “She can never go home. I am sorry but those are my nieces and nephew. I cannot let them go back to him.”

“Dear, we knew he was not the best of men, but surely it is not that bad.”

“You did not see her,” she insisted.

“I have seen her several times.”

“I was buttoning her dress,” she choked, “and I saw the bruises.”

William was shocked. He knew the George Wickham was a cad, but he never thought… He would never have put Lydia in a situation that he thought would cause her harm. Surely his wife would not think he could let her go back home knowing this.

“I will do what I should have done fifteen years ago,” he said solemnly.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Darcy that will not be necessary. We shall be ready to leave in an hour,” Lydia announced, sweeping into the room with the air of a great lady.

“Absolutely out of the question!” Elizabeth and William said at the exact same time.

“Lyddie, I cannot in good conscience let you go home to that monster,” Elizabeth insisted.

“Lizzy, I never said anything about going home. It is not really a possibility, because I do not have a home to go to as of yesterday. But more importantly, you do not have to worry about George Wickham, because he is dead.”

“What do you mean he is dead?” William asked.

“I mean that, after my latest run-in with my husband, I decided that I needed to get my children away from him. George went out to play cards, like he always does, or rather as he used to, and I packed up all our things and went to hire a coach. I figured he would pass out when he got home and we would be here before he knew we were missing. On my way back home, I saw some people standing in an alley and, when I got closer, I saw George lying dead in the street. Apparently, he cheated the wrong people that night. I had already spent all the money I had on the coach and rent was coming due, so I decided to go on with my travel plans.” She told the story as if she were talking about the weather.

The Darcys were speechless.

“Obviously, I was mistaken in thinking that we would be able to stay in one of your many rooms, while I tried to figure out what I am to do now that I am a widow with four young children and nothing to my name,” she added, out of a spitefulness that had never really left her heart.

Elizabeth looked at her husband. As much as she loved her sister, she knew that Lydia staying at Pemberley would be a disaster. Then again, how could she turn out not only her sister, but also her nephew and nieces? With her father’s death, Longbourn had passed to Mr. Collin’s who was certainly not going to take her in.  
Mrs. Bennett and Mary were living with Mrs. Phillips and there was no room there. Kitty had been passed to the Gardiners. She was only recently married to one of Mr. Gardener’s associates. They were in no position to take in a widow and her gaggle of children. That left only Jane and herself, however Jane was late into her most recent confinement and did not need the added stress of Lydia’s brood on an already trouble pregnancy.

What was she to do?

“Mrs. Wickham,” William finally said, “I am sorry…” he paused because, in truth, a rather large part of him was glad that her husband was dead. “I am very sorry that you find yourself in such a difficult situation. I hope you know that if I had known the fate which has befallen you, I never would have pressed for a match between yourself and Mr. Wickham. That being said madam, you cannot stay here indefinitely. I would be glad to help you find a situation in Hertfordshire or London which ever you prefer. Until such time as a suitable situation is attained, however, you are most welcome to stay here.”

Elizabeth sighed in relief. She was not surprised by her husband’s kindness, but she was very grateful for it.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. However, if it is not too much trouble, I would like to settle somewhere else entirely though. I want my children to have room to run and play, but I do not want to have everyone whispering behind my back, which would surely happen if I moved back to Hertfordshire a widow.”

The Darcys were surprised by the levelheaded and unselfish goals Lydia had. Maybe she was truly growing up.

“Is there a place you do have in mind?” Mr. Darcy asked.

“I have given it some thought, and I think the best place for us is Bath. I want to be able to go out and see people and visit beautiful shops and meet officers. Naval men have such handsome uniforms. I should be able to find a new husband there.”

Maybe she hadn’t changed after all.

“I will make some inquires.” Mr. Darcy said. “If that is all, I have some estate business I must attend to.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” Lydia said, dropping a slight curtsy before leaving the room.

As the door shut behind her, Lizzy went around her husband’s desk pulling his chair back and settling herself in his lap.

“How did I get so lucky as to have you fall in love with me, William?” she asked, giving him a gentle kiss on the neck.

“I often ask myself the same question, Lizzy,” he paused, kissing her a little more fervently. ”I think it had something to do with your absolutely teasing lips.”

She laughed heartily and chucked him on the shoulder, before standing to go get dressed for supper.


	3. Lady Spencer's Return

The day of Georgiana’s arrival was a busy one. The house was bustling with excitement from the Darcys and worry from the Wickham children. They did not like strangers. George had tried to calm his siblings with a story, but they were still restless. Anne told them all about her Aunt Georgie, how she had brought Anne a new doll the last time she had visited, and how her new husband always had sweets in his pocket, but they were still worried.

When it was announced that the carriage was spotted, everyone made their way out to the steps to welcome the guests. The first out of the carriage was Lord Samuel Spencer. He was a man of medium height, lithe build, and genial smiles. Georgiana was right behind him, ready for her new husband to hand her down. She had been itching to get out of the carriage ever since they had passed through Lambton. As soon as her feet were on the ground, Georgiana was running for her brother in a most un-ladylike fashion. 

Darcy, of course, scooped her up in his arms and gave his sister a tight hug. Even with the development of his own family with Elizabeth, Darcy’s affection for his sister never lessened. He was happy that she was so well settled, but had missed her immensely over the last few months. 

“Oh William, put the girl down so we can all greet her,” his wife reminded him. Brother and sister blushed slightly, but gave each other one more tight embrace before she made her way over to her niece and nephews. 

Georgiana first greeted Elizabeth who was holding James Darcy. The little boy wiggled from his mother’s grasp in order to get closer to his Aunt. Then Henry Darcy was given a firm hand shake, before giggling and throwing his arms around her knees tightly. When she had finally convinced him to release her, she turned to her favorite niece.

“Why, Anne, I would hardly recognize you? It seems I left a little girl and came back to find a rather sophisticated young woman in her place,” Georgiana joked much as her brother had years ago when he would return after long absences.

Her niece blushed with pride and played the part of Lady of the house very well. “Auntie, this is my cousin Julia Wickham. Julia this is my Aunt Georgiana Darcy.”

“I am very pleased to meet you Miss Wickham, but my niece seems to forget that she was the flower girl at my wedding and I am now Lady Georgiana Spencer.” She smiled.

Julia looked unsure but with Anne holding her hand and Georgiana smiling at her, she decided to be brave. 

“I am pleased to meet you as well, Lady Spencer. Anne has told me all about you.” 

“Please, call me Aunt Georgie.”

“Yes, Aunt, and this is my sister Lucy, and my brother George is holding baby Amelia.”

Georgiana knelt down to shake hands with Lucy, but the small child tried to hide behind her brother. This brought Lady Spencer’s attention to George Wickham. As she returned to her feet, she took in the boy with a pleasant smile, until he looked her straight in the eye with that same appraising look his father had given her many years earlier.   
She paused only a moment before focusing on Amelia, “Mr. Wickham, you have a very handsome baby here.” 

“Thank you,” he answered, not sure why the stranger was looking at him so oddly. “This is my mother Mrs. Lydia Wickham.”

The ladies shook hands each sizing up the other. Lydia had heard all about the perfection that was Georgiana Spencer nee Darcy, and looked to find fault. Georgiana was contemplating the fact that—in another life—this could have been her 10 year old son with sparkling blue eyes. 

With introductions complete, the newly arrived guests’ chose to take a short nap after their long journey. George and Elizabeth ushered the children back to the nursery. Darcy went back to his ever growing pile of correspondence.

The adults reassembled in the blue room before the evening meal. The couples sat chatting amiably, while Lydia sat trying not to retch at their overt displays of affection. Every time she caught one of them staring at their partner or giving them a peck on the check she had to stifle an eye roll. Inevitably her eyes would fall on the only other person in the room.   
Mr. Darcy had invited his neighbor Mr. Taylor to dine with them to even out the numbers. Joseph Taylor had recently inherited his estate unexpectedly, upon the untimely death of his brother. He had never been raised to be lord and master. As a second son, Mr. Taylor had spent his time at school studying to be a barrister. Thankfully, Darcy had seen Mr. Taylor in Lambton one afternoon, and offered to help the younger man learn the basics of estate management. 

Over the last several months, the Darcy’s had come to see Joseph as a younger brother, and he `was a frequent guest in their home. Joseph watched the new comers with interest, especially Mrs. Darcy’s beautiful widowed sister. 

“Mrs. Wickham, how long will you be in Derbyshire?” Mr. Taylor asked, seeing the couples otherwise occupied.

“Not very long I hope,” She sniffed. “I am waiting on my brother Darcy to organize our travel.”

“And where are you headed?” 

“My children and I are to settle in Bath.”

“Are you enjoying your stay?” Mr. Taylor again fished for a polite line of discourse. “We have been having ever fine weather of late.”

“The country is fine for a visit, I suppose, but I should be happy to be in a city again. I confess, that though I grew up in the country, the city, with all its sights and sounds is much more to my liking.”

Mr. Taylor said nothing further. He loved the country, found cities loud and abrasive, and could not fathom a person finding the chaos soothing. 

Luckily, both were saved from an uncomfortable silence by Alfred announcing dinner.   
 


	4. What could have been

The next day dawned bright and beautiful. Elizabeth decided that they should have a picnic to celebrate their newest guests, and allow the children to get some excercise. Mr. Darcy was chatting with Lord Spencer about a new bill being discussed in Parliament. The children were running wildly around the lawn. George had organized a game of tag and was pretending to run from Lucy, while making sure his sister was still able to tag him. Lydia sat on a blanket munching an apple and reading a book. 

Lydia Wickham was not stupid. Years of living with her mistakes and trying to make do with very little had tempered her zest for life. She had seen and done things that her sisters would never dream of, but she did not want their pity. She would continue to act as if she was still the vain, silly girl, who had boarded the carriage for Brighton. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her unhappiness. 

As Lydia watched ‘Lady Spencer’ and Lizzy sipping lemonade and talking about a new piece of music Georgiana had picked up in Venice, she knew they would never understand her life. In the day since Georgiana’s arrival, Lizzy had spent more time with ‘Georgie’, than she had spent with Lydia in the last week.

Annoyed, her eyes shifted to the children for a moment. At least they were happy. They were laughing and chasing each other with an unfettered glee she had never seen. They deserved this kind of life, this kind of freedom, but Lydia was getting a terrible headache. All the sun, open air and the children were laughing so loudly. All she wanted to do was go inside and lay down for a while. She was just so tired. Why did everyone else have to be so cheerful and happy, when she was feeling terrible? 

She had just closed her eyes for a moment when her thoughts were interrupted. 

“Your son is such a sweet boy, Mrs. Wickham. You are a lucky woman,” Lady Spencer commented, taking a seat beside her. 

Lydia made no response. She simply took a deep breath and tried not to snap at the other woman. As if she was unaware how sweet her son was. She could (maybe) appreciate the compliment, except for the fact that she felt like Lady Spencer had a hint of surprise in her voice. In her mind, it seems like the lady expects Lydia’s sweet, caring, perfect George to be just like his father.

Lydia took another deep breath and thought about her response. In her years as a married woman she had learned to think very carefully before she spoke. 

“My son is a wonderful brother. I am indeed very blessed,” she responds neutrally.

“I am looking forward to having my own little blessings,” Lady Spencer replied. 

“It will not be what you think it is…” Lydia returned ruefully.

“Of course, I would never presume to know…” The lady tried to explain. 

Then again perhaps it will be exactly what that lady expected, Lydia thought. After all, Georgiana Spencer had enough money to hire ten nursemaids. She would probably be one of those women who only had their children brought from the nursery once a day. Was that not what George had told her?

He had gone off time and time again about how easy his life would have been if he had married the ‘right’ sister. How Georgiana would never have made him wait for his dinner. How Georgiana would have had the good sense to give him a proper son, and not one who sniveled and spent more time playing dolls with his sister than learning to be a man. 

Yes, sometimes deep in her heart, Lydia wished that Darcy had been too late, and Georgiana had been saddled with the man who was instead her husband.

“And my dear Samuel is so excited to be a father. He is already looking for ponies, and story books, and the newest toys. I suppose it is a very good thing that we have a niece and nephews to spoil until our own children come along. Of course now when have even more children to spoil, now that your sweetlings are here. I hope you will not be leaving too soon?” Georgiana questioned interrupting Lydia's thoughts yet again. 

Lydia realized that while she was woolgathering, the other woman had been going on and on about the joys of motherhood, or at least what, in her mind, they were. 

“I am not sure how long we will stay,” Lydia replied vaguely. 

“But surely your husband will want you to return home soon? He must be missing you all terribly.” She choked on the word husband. 

Lydia was thrown. She thought that either Darcy or Elizabeth would have told Georgiana about her circumstances. “It is complicated,” she finally replied, knowing that this was neither the time nor the place for such news as needed to be imparted. Luckily, Lucy wandered over at that moment to show her mother the ladybug she had captured, and the woman parted company without any farther discourse.


	5. Established Routine

It had been a week since the arrival of Lord and Lady Spencer, and things for the Wickham children had returned to normal. Or at least what would pass for normal, given that their lives thus far had been riddled with fights between their parents, frequent moves, and learning early to never answer the door for a creditor. 

The morning routine at Pemberley was consistent. First the children awoke in the morning to a warm breakfast in the nursery. Then Aunt Lizzy would come to visit for a little while, rocking Amelia and teaching the others a silly song, or rhyme about blue boys and a leaping cow. When it was time for Aunt Lizzy to do whatever grown-ups did to occupy their time, the nursery maids would help them set up forts out of blocks, or a puppet show. Later they would have lunch, and in the afternoon, they got to go outside if the weather was pleasant or sometimes Maria—their favorite maid— would let them play tag in the ballroom. When they returned to the nursery, the younger children would take a nap while the older ones read quietly or worked on simple figures that Aunt Lizzy had gone over with them. Before dinner, Aunt Lizzy would come back to look over their work—sometimes their mother would join her—but most of the time they only saw her in the evening after dinner. 

The evenings were often the best part of the day. If the children were good, they could join the adults in the drawing room. Sometimes it could be a little boring, watching the adult talk or play cards, but most nights Aunt Lizzy made sure that they were well entertained. She would let them play charades, or she would teach them simple cards games. Aunt Georgie let them sit with her at the piano, and taught Julia and Anne how to play a few simple tunes. One time, Uncle Darcy and Lord Spencer even got down on the floor and had a toy soldier war with them. Uncle Darcy said he had always played this game with his cousins when they came to visit. 

Still, every night when George Wickham kissed his sisters goodnight, he found himself wondering when the dark cloud would arrive. After all, his life had not always been terrible. There had been many nights reading with his mother before she became too busy the girls. There had been days when his father would come home whistling, telling them wonderful stories about his adventures. There had even been a few trips to visit his mother’s family, but it seemed to George that every time they became comfortable, their lives were about to be turned upside down. 

With each passing day George became increasingly uneasy. He could not let himself relax. If he dropped his guard for even a moment, who knew what might happen. He lay awake at night, pacing the nursery, checking on each bed in turn. He made sure that the girls ate every bit of food they were given and squirreled away every treat he received. He had heard his mother talking about moving to Bath. If they were moving, he needed to make sure that they had enough to live on when they got there. 

And then there was his mother. She had retreated into herself more every day. George had seen this retreat before. He knew that it was not that she did not care, but that she was afraid to care. She, like him, was afraid for a future which they had no control over. He did not know how much he would be able to help his mother once they relocated. He had seen his friends and neighbors sent to the work house, and he would do whatever it took to save his family from such a fate. Therefore, he decided that he would use this time to prepare for whatever life in Bath had in store for him. 

 

Somewhere across the vast halls of the great estate, Lydia Wickham lay awake in her bed. Since her arrival at Pemberley, it had become her custom to sleep late and stay awake at night. She hated being surrounded by people who looked upon her with shame, or worse, pity. The only option, therefore, was to keep to her room. Whenever she summoned the courage to venture out, she was met with such sights that shamed her back to her bed. 

Her children were thriving in their Aunt’s house. Darcy treated them with either indifference or tolerance, which was more than they had ever received from their own father. Lydia could not be ignorant to the plain facts. She had failed. She had failed at being a daughter, a sister, a wife and a mother.

She was obsessively replaying a conversation she had heard between Lizzy and Georgiana. They were all in the music room, but her dear sister must not have remembered that the room had excellent acoustics. 

“Oh my dear sister, I am so happy to see all of you, and I must admit that your nieces and nephew are very endearing.” Georgiana said as Lizzy sat turning the pages for her.

“Yes, they are very sweet children. I have been talking to Will about hiring a governess. I think with a little help they could prove to be very bright indeed.”

“That is just the thing they need. What does Fitzwilliam about it?”

“He thinks that we should focus on finding them a permanent situation in Bath.”

“But why? He seems to like them well enough.”

“I think that is the problem. He sees their name and worries about history repeating itself.”

“Surely you have told him it is an entirely different... “

Lydia had chosen this moment to take her leave. She could not bear the fact that she had caused her sister to fight with Mr. Darcy. She had never seen any evidence that Mr. Darcy was at all like her husband, but she knew that she must find a way to remove herself from this place before the curse that followed her life started to wreak havoc here. 

Lydia resigned herself to the idea that she would speak to Mr. Darcy the next day. Maybe if she was lucky (for once) she could convince him to let Julia stay. The children seemed so happy here. It was a shame that they would have to uprooted yet again.


	6. Lucy and Mr. Night

Lucy Elizabeth Wickham had taken to following her Uncle Darcy around everywhere she could. She had been extremely confused when her family left the only home she had ever known. These days she barely saw her older brother and sister. They were always working on lessons or talking to adults or some other boring thing. Not like her Uncle Darcy, he was only still at his desk and even then his foot tapped as if ready to jump up at a moment’s notice. 

She liked to follow him in the mornings when he picked fresh flowers for her Aunt Lizzy. She liked to sit under his desk when he did his paper work. He often let her seal his letters, or scribble on botched drafts. But best of all, was when he worked with the horses. Pemberley had the most beautiful horse Lucy had ever seen. She always followed her uncle when he was headed for the stables. One such day, Uncle Darcy was in the tack room talking to the blacksmith, when two of the grooms struggled to bring in a new mount.

“Do you think he can do it?” The footman asked.

“If anyone is up to the task, it must be he,” replied the groom. 

“Without leaving the Mistress a widow?” The Footman returned.

“He would never let that happen, Joe. I swear he would take on the devil himself for that lady.”

“I believe that, but that horse might be the devil on earth. He nearly took John’s arm off when we tried to get him into that stall.”

Lucy watched the animal move past her in a trance. He was so beautiful, his eyes were deep and dark, but at their core she felt a gentle spirit lingered. When the men finally worked him into the stall and walked away, she could not help but move closer. 

Uncle Darcy had introduced her to his favorite horse, Apollo, and she had enjoyed stroking his soft nose. Apollo loved apples, just like her. She had remembered to sneak one earlier to bring for her favorite pet, but now watching the big black horse kick and whinny in his stall, she thought that an apple might help him settle. 

Once in the stall, Lucy simply looked at the horse in the eyes and sat down right in the path of his powerful legs, her face tilted up towards the mighty beast. The horse began to calm, snuffing his nose and shaking his head with lessened force until he was as still as she. Then and only then did she rise and move closer. 

“Night,” she said, patting the horse’s nose and smiling.

The great Night nickered gently and brushed his nose against her apron pocket, reminding Lucy of the treat she had stowed there. She happily feed it to him just as her Uncle had shown her in the past. Her business finished, Lucy then turned and walked out of the stall, surprised to find her uncle Darcy looking at her almost like her father used to. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy had seen a flash of pink checkered fabric disappearing into the stall and rushed over. Lucy did not heed his calls for her to retreat. His efforts were futile. The girl would not be moved by commands and he did not want to agitate the horse while Lucy was so close to it. He watched with fascination as the she stood and snuggled the great beast before giving it a snack and skipping out the door to him. 

Darcy began to scold her for her carelessness. He went on and on until, he looked into her eyes and saw no comprehension, but sadly a bit of fear. He knew that Lucy did not often speak, but she had always seemed like such a good listener. He could not fathom why she would put herself in such a dangerous situation, but seeing that she was clearly frightened, he decided it was best to return her to her mother. 

It took him some time to find the girl’s mother, and so he had already sent the girl off with the nursery maid. Lydia was in the last place he would have expected. In fact, were he not an observant man, he doubted he would have noticed her tucked into a small alcove in the library. 

“Mrs. Wickham, I must insist that you attend your child! She was very nearly killed today,” he demanded, anger now boiling from the fear of losing the sweet girl. 

Lydia looked up face completely placid, “I am sorry, Sir, which of my daughters seems to be the problem?”

Darcy recounted the tale and in the end Lydia looked indecisive. 

“Come Mrs. Wickham, I cannot have a child in my home that does not follow my orders, especially where their safety is at risk.”

“I am quite certain that she would have obeyed, but I very much doubt…” she looked around trying to find the words. 

“Yes?” Darcy pressed impatiently. 

“She cannot hear!” She exclaimed and then quickly covered her mouth. 

“Pardon me, Mrs. Wickham, but do you mean to tell me that she could not hear me today or that she has some defect and has not heard a thing in her life.” 

“My daughter is not defective!” She insisted, fire in her eyes for only the second time since her arrival. 

“Answer the question.”

Lydia glared at the imposing man, but he gave no indication that his resolve would waver.

“Lucy was a very happy child. She was progressing just like her brother and sister until about six months ago. It was a cold winter and she caught a sight chill, but then the fever took her,” she seemed trapped in a terrible memory for a moment but then continued. “When she finally regained herself, she was different. Often distracted by too much movement, she stopped saying the few words she had used, and could not follow simple directions as she once had.”

“What did the physician say?” Darcy asked. 

Lydia could not stop the bitter snort that escaped her. 

“Physician? My ‘husband’ would not even let me call the apothecary. He said that she would either recover or die, either way there was no money ‘worthless’ expenditures.” 

Darcy was lost in thought for several minutes. Lydia considered leaving the room, but did not want to discuss the topic again and so she waited for him to process this new discovery. 

“I will send for our physician tomorrow,” he finally said, almost to himself. “Mrs. Wickham, is there anything else you are not telling me about your past?”

“Many things….”

“Anything that involves your children’s ability to live safely in my home?” he sighed.

“Not that I can think of…” 

“Then, I must return to my work. I would suggest you spend some time with your children.” 

 

Later that afternoon, when Elizabeth heard about the incident she went in search of her sister. She was tired of the children asking about their mother and tired of Lydia’s lack luster parenting style. Knowing that this was not a talk they wanted overheard, Elizabeth asked Lydia to join her in her private parlor.

“Lydia, I will never understand how you could have let this happen,” Elizabeth scolded like a school mistress. 

“Elizabeth, you are my sister and I love you, but there are some things that you cannot understand about real life.” Lydia said sadly.

“Real life, you think that I live in a fantasy, but you are the one who chooses to continually ignore reality, sister! There you sit reading a book while my staff cares for your children. While my husband works on procuring you yet another expensive settlement on which you will live. And…” Elizabeth exploded.

“I would suggest you lower your voice before we have a repeat of the incident the other day. My son has been dealt an unfair hand, but he has accepted his lot admirably. He feels it is his duty to protect his sisters and I in any way he can.” Lydia interrupted.

“And what of the fact that he is but a child himself?” Elizabeth demanded.

“This is exactly what I am talking about, Lizzy. In London, boys half his age work for scraps, live in squalor, and steal to feed their families.”

“That does not make it right for my nephew, Lydia.”

“Of course it is not right, but what was I to do? Anytime the children needed something, I would have to ask my husband for money that we did not have. He would go on and on about what useless creatures I continued to produce and claim that if they needed something they should fend for themselves! When he found out that we were expecting again, I thought he might actually kill me just to have a few less mouths to feed, but George stepped in and promised that he would take responsibility for feeding the baby from his own rations or find a way to earn its keep.” 

Elizabeth was gob smacked. Not even the Pemberley servants or tenants had to worry about whether or not they would be able to feed their children. 

“Do not act so high and mighty, Elizabeth Darcy. If you had your way, we would be half way across the country by now. You were pushing us out the door the day after we arrived. If not for the fact that I stupidly came to you for help, you would have been perfectly happy to live in the bubble of perfection that is Pemberley, only knowing of your nieces and nephew from the rare letters I have occasion to send.”

Elizabeth was shamed into silence. It was true that she had not maintained a sisterly relationship with Lydia after her marriage. She liked to blame it on Lydia’s husband, but arrangements could have been made. She could have at the very least written more.

“I am sorry, Lyddie. I should have kept in touch. Perhaps if I had, you would have felt more comfortable sharing your burdens with me sooner.” 

Lydia wanted to revel in her success of having Elizabeth admit she was wrong, but she couldn’t find happiness in others failings anymore. 

“Do not trouble yourself with things that are in past, Lizzy. I have spent so much of my life thinking about how things could have been different, but they are not. I am a widow, with four children, no prospects and nothing to live on. That said, I am alive, I have four beautiful healthy children, and my situation is vastly improved from what it was just a fortnight ago.” Lydia smiled thinking of her children. “I am sorry to have caused you such trouble, but I am sure that we will be on our way by month’s end and your life can go back to normal.” 

Lizzy took her sisters hand and gave it a squeeze. Both women were beginning to dread the eventual parting. One because she would never be able to see her children as happy as they were here and the other sad that she would miss the opportunity to see cousins become friends in a house full of happiness and laughter.


	7. George Bennett Wickham is not afraid of anything

Everyone knew that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were early risers. They had discovered early in their marriage that getting up with the sun meant that they could have breakfast together alone. Through the years they had continued this habit as a way to connect in a time where they had many other things on their schedule and could go a whole day without seeing one another. 

On this particular morning the Darcy’s were in the breakfast room discussing the need for young George to start his schooling. Elizabeth wanted to hire a tutor for all the children, worried that sending the boy to a boarding school might be too harsh an adjustment for him after years of such close familial bonds. Darcy was amenable to the idea, but was worried about the influence that George might have on the other children. After all, his father had started to cause trouble right around the same age the boy was now. Sadly, they did not notice that their conversation was not as private as they had thought. 

“I am not my father!” George screamed at Darcy, before running out the door of the breakfast room. He did not stop until he was deep into the wilds of Pemberley grounds, taking no heed of the dark clouds lacing the sky. 

It was nearly half an hour later that Mr. Darcy, soaked to the skin, found the boy hulled up under a tree for shelter. He was shivering, eyes clamped shut, flinching with each thunder clap. When he heard his uncle’s approach though, he stood and adopted a mask of imperviousness. 

“You are not afraid of the storm?” Darcy asked. 

“I am nearly grown. I am afraid of nothing.” George insisted. 

“If you are afraid of nothing then you are better man than I.” Darcy offered and when the boy looked at him curiously, he went on. “I am afraid of a few things.”

“What could you be afraid of?” George asked clearly at a loss. 

“Your Aunt Lizzy, for one. She is quite frightening when she wants to be.” Darcy joked, but George lowered his head again. Mr. Darcy sighed. He had raised a sister and he had sons, but never had he been forced to try to understand how to help a boy who was trying to become a man. “I am afraid of failing. I am afraid of not doing my duty to my family, or of losing the people who mean the most to me. Oh, and I am absolutely terrified of squirrels.” 

“Squirrels?” George laughed.

“Indeed, squirrels,” Darcy responded indignantly. “When I was a boy, your father and I used to play in these very woods. One day we were playing hide and seek, which your father always won, because he was an excellent hider, so I decide to climb up into a tree to hide. Unfortunately, a squirrel already lived in said tree and took exception to me calling upon him without invitation, and so he bit me. I near lost a finger, but finally I got the little pest loose and ran back to the house, where Mrs. Reynolds cleaned the wound with this terrible home remedy. Ever since that day, I have been afraid of squirrels.”

The storm was dying down a bit by then, but George had been so busy listening to the story, that he had completely forgotten to be afraid. In no time at all the rain had stopped and George and Mr. Darcy made their way back to the house. They had almost reached the stairs leading to the door when George broke their peaceable silence. 

“I am not my Father.” He said in a quiet voice.

“I know that, George.” Mr. Darcy stopped to look in the boy’s eyes and truly there was not bit of his childhood friend looking back at him. “I should not have implied what I did about your future. I am truly sorry and I can only hope that you will forgive me. You have been a credit to your family and I am proud to know you.”

“I wish that,” George paused to collect himself, “I wish that I was not George Wickham, that I could be my own man, who did not live in the shadow of a drunken blackard.”

With that said, George gave a shrug. There was nothing to be done for it. He could not change who people associated him with, he could only prove that he was better than that, one person at a time. He entered the house where his mother fawned over him effusively, insisting that he get closer to the fire and drink some tea. Darcy was under the opinion that she sounded very much like Mrs. Bennett. 

Elizabeth made her way over to her husband. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked taking his arm to lead him upstairs. 

“I am not sure.” He replied.

“Let’s get you into a bath and some fresh clothes. We can figure out the rest when you are warm and dry.” 

Though he did not generally like to follow orders, William chose to follow his wise wife’s directions this once.

“I do think I will need a hand out of these wet clothes.” He hinted.

His wife chuckled, “I think that could be arranged.” 

Later that day, after a much need bath, and an unusually long nap, William informed his steward that inquires needed to be made for a tutor for all the children.


	8. Making Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Darcy make some hard choices.

“Mrs. Reynolds?” Mr. Darcy called from his study. 

“Sir?” Mrs. Reynolds inquired joining him. 

“Have you seen my wife?” 

“I believe she is in the nursery, would you like me to let her know that you are looking for her.”

Darcy thought for a moment, he had just read through all the applicants for the tutor and he wanted his wife’s opinion, but he also wanted a break after several hours of paper work. 

“No, Mrs. Reynolds, we shall seek out the fair maiden ourselves,” He said tapping Lucy on the shoulder to draw her attention from the sketch she was working on. “You are free to go back to your work.”

Darcy had to slow his usually quick pace to walk with Lucy up the main stair case, but he did not mind. His mind was processing what felt like a thousand things. There was a tutor to be hired. A physician had been applied to for a consultation on Lucy’s hearing. He had a stack of properties that were available in Bath that needed to be considered. Not to mention, Joseph was having problems with his irrigation system again, and had applied to Darcy for advice. Perhaps most pressing though was the mood his wife had been in lately. 

She had not been sad per say, but more thoughtful and quiet than was her general manner. She did everything that needed to be done, but he could see that sometimes it was a burden. She smiled and laughed, but sometimes it did not quite reach her eyes. 

They came around the corner, and Darcy heard his wife and her sister talking. He turned to Lucy and gave her a signal to be quiet. 

“Oh Lizzy, you will spoil that girl holding her like that.” Lydia teased. 

“You cannot spoil a child with love, Lyddie, just let me enjoy snuggling this little angel. My boys are far too busy to be held for more than a few minutes these days, and Anne thinks she is too grown up for such things.” 

“What will you do when we leave?” Lydia asked, the Darcy’s could support as many children as they wanted, so Lydia was confused as to why they only had three. 

“I imagine I will have to settle for the few moments my children can bear.” Lizzy smiled down at Amelia tickling her chin. 

“But why, you and Mr. Darcy are younger than Mama and Papa were when they had me, you could have several more children?”

“James is our last baby.” She replied with a sad determination. 

Darcy took this as a queue to enter. 

“You see Lucy, I told you they would be up here trying to steal your toys.” He teased trying to break the tense mood.

“We were doing nothing of the sort.” Lizzy playful insisted. “We are innocent, Lucy, please tell your uncle that we would never do such a thing.” She continued to plead.

Lucy looked from her silly Aunt to her favorite Uncle with a confused expression but chose to laugh at the antics as she could sense their repressed amusement.

“In truth, I was hoping that my wife would join me in the study. I have been looking over the responses for a tutor and I feel it would be best to consult fairer minds before making a decision.” Mr. Darcy explained when Lucy had trotted off to play with her cousins. 

“Of course, dear,” Lizzy smiled, but seemed to be reluctant to give up little Amelia who was babbling in her arms. 

“I could be of help.” Lydia offered, surprising both the Darcy’s. 

Mr. Darcy stammered for an excuse to retreat, but then thought better of it. This was the first time he had seen Lydia Wickham show more than a cursory interest in her children, and that must be rewarded, even if it was a punishment for him. 

“I would appreciate hearing your opinion, Mrs. Wickham.” 

Elizabeth was happy that her husband was allow Lydia this input, but she did not want to damage the fragile balance in the house, so she handed Amelia off to the maid and the three   
adults left the nursery in search of the perfect tutor. 

Mr. Darcy had sorted the applicants into three piles. There was a large pile that had been ruled out due to what he deemed unsuitability. Then can a smaller pile of last options, applicants who were less desirable for whatever reason, but could not be completely ruled out. Lastly, the five candidates Darcy considered the cream of the crop. 

Darcy handed the stack of applications to his wife in the order in which he had ranked them. She split the pile in half and handed some to her sister. They both sat on the settee looking over the information.

“Are you applicants all men, Lizzy?” Lydia asked after a moment. 

“Yes, why?” 

“Mine are as well.”

“They are trained at the best schools,” Darcy explained. 

“And how many in the last resort stack are men?” Lizzie asked. 

“Several.”

“Any women?” Lydia asked. 

“There are a few gentlewomen who applied.”

“And the rest were deemed unsuitable due to their station?” Lydia enquired. 

“Well, yes, and no, those women were often self-educated.”

“Like your wife?” Lydia pointed out. Darcy blanched. 

“What of their recommendations and accomplishments?” Lizzie asked. 

“Those were taken into account, but still, do you not want the children to be educated by the person best suited for the job?”

“I think you meant man best suited,” Lydia commented tartly. 

Darcy took a deep breath. “Go through them all then. Make your choice and we will all discuss their merits when you are ready.”

Later that night, lying in bed, Elizabeth mentioned the idea of another baby to her husband.

“We have had this discussion before, Lizzy.” He replied, a trace of past ghost in his voice. He would give his beloved wife almost anything, but she always seemed to want things that he could not provide.

“Perhaps, we could reconsider? It is only that I feel as though we are missing someone. I have this sensation that our family is not yet complete. I want our daughter to have a sister to quarrel with and steal bonnets from and tease about her crushes.”

“Darling, she has two fine brothers to tease and they will be happy to steal her bonnets, and quarrel with her.”

“I know that, but it is simply not the same. She has so enjoyed having Julia here, but soon the Wickhams will be gone and then Anne will be wishing for someone to play dolls with again and it will only get worse as she gets older and becomes a young woman. She can’t sneak into her brother’s beds at night to go over who danced with whom at a ball.”

“Well, I would think not, but she has you, my dear.”

“Oh William, in the coming years I fear that my own daughter shall come to see me as her worst enemy. That is how it is with mothers and daughters.”

“What about me? Were you not close to your father at that age?” That was William, always finding the solution to any problem. 

“Yes, I was close to my father, but I also had Jane and Charlotte.”

“But is it worth the risk?”

Elizabeth turned away from her husband. She knew he was right, but her heart still tugged in her chest at the thought of a little girl with her dark curls and William’s eyes. She wanted that vision so bad, but then Elizabeth forced herself to think about what was on William’s mind. 

She remembered the birth of their last son.   
She woke up excited, knowing that she would have her baby that day.   
She tiptoed into the nursery to tell the children that their new baby was on the way.   
She impatiently paced the room waiting for the midwife to arrive.   
Then it all changed with a look of worry in the midwife’s eye after a few hours with no progress.  
That was when she knew that something was not right.  
After what seemed like a lifetime, or maybe it was just the blink of an eye, she started to feel like everything around her was fading away.   
She couldn’t hear what people were saying but she saw their troubled looks.   
She could not stand their looks of concern and pity, so she tried to focus on the large clock in the corner of the room, but she knew in her heart that it was taking too long.   
She remembered looking into her sister’s eyes and thinking that this was the last thing she was ever going to see.   
Remembered begging Jane to make sure her children taken care of, especially Anne.   
She remembered Mrs. Montgomery telling her that if she wanted to live then she would have to do exactly as midwife said.   
She remembered trying so hard to hear what the woman is saying but the voice is getting quieter and farther away.   
She remembered feeling as though she was floating above her body and then nothing.   
Blackness.  
A baby screaming. A million voices telling her that he was fine.  
Who was fine? The baby, of course the baby was fine. How could he not be? Her mother had delivered five children without as much as a hiccup. She herself had two perfectly children in the nursery waiting to greet the new addition.   
Why would they tell her he was fine?   
Wait, it’s a boy. She had a son. Another son. James.   
Jane is rubbing her arms. Why couldn’t she stop shivering? Why was there blood on Jane’s arm?   
Where was the baby, she should be holding him? Where was James? Who was with him?   
Why wasn’t someone with her baby? Panic. Darkness. Rubbing on her arms again.   
William holding her.  
Why was he looking at her like that?  
Where was James? She was shouting again, but nobody was answering her questions.  
Then, finally, James was there. Her sweet James.   
Why did he look like he had already been in a fight?  
Everything was fine. She focused on his face. Tried to remember everything about him.   
Anne and Henry should have here.   
They needed to meet their brother.   
Someone was supposed to go get them. She needed to see her baby girl. She needed all of her children with her.   
When Anne and Henry were brought in—against everyone’s protests except William, who appeared to be in a mood to give her anything she could ask for—Anne wrapped her in a tight hug around her neck. Henry snuggled into his father’s lap, his tiny arms clutching his brother protectively. And it wasn’t until later that day that she really understood what had happened. 

That both she and James almost died, but by then they are all fine and she tried not to think about it. That was until William told her that was her last baby. 

 

In the present, Elizabeth sighed. Her mind was telling her to be thankful for what she had. She was luckier, than so many others. She had three beautiful children, a husband who would give her almost anything, and the opportunity to grow old with the love of her life. Still, in her heart was a glimpse of something more, and though she had accepted that it would not come to pass, she ached a little for what would never be.

**Author's Note:**

> I started posting this on FF a while ago, but I am putting it here now and hoping I will be able to update regularly.


End file.
